


wanna hear you sing it

by serendipitee



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: (I mean it is phone sex so...), Dirty Talk, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/pseuds/serendipitee
Summary: He forgot his hand is still on his dick.-Or, Jinyoung is temporary leader; Jaebeom is stuck in Seoul, and horny, and dumb.





	wanna hear you sing it

**Author's Note:**

> the smut never stops??? apparently ???? anyway this is mia's fault  
> title from [lullaby by got7](https://youtu.be/9RUeTYiJCyA)

Jaebeom is alone.

It’s rare that he ever gets time to be alone and rarer still for him to have the requisite space to truly feel like he’s by himself, because even when he’s technically ‘alone’ in his room at the dorm there’s always someone down the hall, in the next room over squawking about so-and-so stealing their shoes or laughing too loud.

But for right now, because he did an idiotic thing and tried to windmill while his back was already sore, he is truly, very alone. His physical therapist told him last week that his back was doing well but to use caution, but he wanted to look cool on Knowing Brothers and, well. The rest of the boys must be finishing their performance in Tokyo by now, and he’s stuck at home letting his pain meds dull the sharp edge of anxiety scraping along his nerves. They’re doing a half-assed job at it.

But again, Jaebeom is alone. And being alone and being a little high and being anxious leads him to believe that the best course of action is probably just to jerk off and fall asleep to stop thinking about it all.

He jams his hand down his gray sweats, cupping himself and exhaling slow to stop the overwhelming swirling in his head. It feels good; good enough to distract him a little, good enough to get his blood running warm under his skin. Good enough for him to start filling up. 

Jaebeom thinks briefly about getting really into it. He could set up his laptop and watch some porn with the volume up since there's no one else there. He could get all the way stripped down and take his time. He could think of someone or something that makes him moan and not have to muffle it into a pillow for once —

Fuck. His phone's going off, somewhere under his shoulder. It's late, so it's gotta be manager hyung calling to remind him to take it easy tomorrow before the boys get back in the afternoon. He always does these little five minute check-in calls when Jaebeom is away; it's nice. He fumbles and answers without checking the caller or bothering to take his hand out of his pants. It's just five minutes. 

But it's not just manager hyung. “Jaebeom hyung, you're awake! Ah, I didn't wake you, did I?” Jinyoung’s voice is a deep, familiar rumble. 

Jaebeom gulps, looking down at his wrist disappearing into his pants. “No, Jinyoungie, I was up.” 

Jinyoung clicks his tongue. “Hyung, you should really be resting.”

“Didn't you call me?” Jaebeom challenges.

Jinyoung chuckles, and it’s warm and happy and feels special, the way it always does, like it’s just for Jaebeom and nobody else. As per usual, he cuts through the clamor and makes Jaebeom feel like no one else is around.

They are all around — Jaebeom can hear Bambam and Jackson arguing in the background and Youngjae laughing at them, he can hear Yugyeom humming and Mark’s soft, smirking voice close to Jinyoung, and he can see them all in his mind’s eye, smiling together, coming down from the high of a concert. For a brief, painful moment he misses them deeply. The pain meds must be getting to his head.

“Mark hyung wants to know if you’ve been getting high and laying around all day.” He can hear the grin in Jinyoung’s voice like he kind of wants to know the answer too.  


“Kinda, yeah,” Jaebeom admits, laughing when he hears Jinyoung confirm it to Mark and his distant answering _'lucky!'_ “Can’t really do much else.”

Jinyoung hums as the background noise dies out. He must be getting into his hotel room. Jaebeom can hear the unlocking door, the sound of shoes being wedged off, the sigh of an air conditioner. Jinyoung must be rooming alone, since Jaebeom isn’t there.

“God,” Jinyoung says, huffing a sigh, “I think this is the first time since I woke up that it’s just been silent. This is amazing.” 

His voice sounds kind of raw, throaty like it always gets after a concert but with the added overuse of having to wrangle the rest of their friends through a day full of interviews and appearances, keeping them on track and on time for things, recentering conversations that had gone completely off the rails. Jaebeom knows Jinyoung has a natural knack for leadership but he gets frustrated earlier and easier than the guy that has to do it all the rest of the time.

It can’t help that Jaebeom wasn’t there for him to vent. He’s probably exhausted. “Do you want me to go?”

“You know I wasn’t talking about you.” He didn’t know, actually, but it makes him smile to think of the exasperated, fond look on Jinyoung’s face. His friend is talking low and quiet, private, and Jaebeom feels cocooned in the sound. 

He shifts, intending to turn on his side to get a little more comfortable, and freezes. 

He forgot his hand is still on his dick.

Jinyoung is murmuring about their overpacked schedule, and his voice is so comforting, and familiar, and with the strain on his vocal chords it’s got a little rough edge to it that’s unintentionally sexy, dragging out syllables and dipping low into consonants.  


Jaebeom swallows, hard. He leaves his hand in his pants. Jinyoung is still talking, and Jaebeom’s ears burn with the embarrassment that he’s been distracted for God knows how long, accidentally touching himself while poor innocent Jinyoung was on the other end of the line complaining to who he thought was a sympathetic ear. This is wrong. It’s so wrong. It’s —

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says, and Jaebeom’s hand spasms, tightening around his dick as it comes back to full hardness. “Are you even listening to me?” 

The words are a tease, as always, but Jaebeom feels caught. He squeezes again, once, hard, choking on the moan that threatens to bubble out and the guilt tightening thick fingers around his throat. “I —” He hopes Jinyoung can’t hear the breathy exhale. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just. Moving around.”

There’s a half-second before Jinyoung answers, and Jaebeom’s teeth clench, terrified. “I know hearing me bitching about Jackson’s fucking _flaming_ charisma can’t be particularly exciting,” Jinyoung laughs, “It’s okay.”

“Nah, I want to hear how your day went.” It’s the truth. It just so happens that he might also want to do other things, and his resolve to just leave his hand lying there limp is fading fast, now that he knows what exactly Jinyoung’s voice is doing to him. It’s with a strange mix of angst and fear and pleasure that he teases the head of his cock, just with the tips of his fingers, as Jinyoung makes sounds on the other end like he’s finally relaxing.

Jinyoung sighs and groans, probably stretching out over his bedspread. “It was fine. I don’t know how you do this all the time.” Jaebeom wonders if he’s still in stage clothes or if he’s changed into that same worn blue crewneck sweatshirt he bought three years ago, the one that Jaebeom always wants to sneak his hands under to feel the warmth of his friend’s skin. He can see a snapshot of Jinyoung laying back, hair messy, a tantalizing slice of his soft, flat belly on display where his shirt rides up. He’s probably rubbing his eyes with a loose fist; he’s probably cracking his neck; his mouth is probably swollen after singing and talking and smiling — His lips, pink and slick with his favorite peach lip balm, open like a blossom, sweet spilling over like nectar —

Jaebeom can’t stop the full-body shudder that comes with the thought, but he bites down on his lips, hoping beyond hope that Jinyoung is too busy getting settled to hear his muffled whining.

“Hyung.”

He breathes in deep and slow to try to soothe his pounding heart. “Yes?”

“What are you up to?” There’s an undercurrent to his voice that Jaebeom can’t quite figure out, for some reason. 

“I’m just.” Jaebeom stares hard at the ceiling and not at his stretched-out waistband. “Hanging out.”

“Ah.” It sounds like Jinyoung is smiling. One of those sweet, soft ones he saves just for Jaebeom, maybe. He rubs his thumb over the head of his dick, stomach swooping. “Did you do anything fun today?” His voice swings low on the _fun_ , unintentionally suggestive.

“No.” Jaebeom gulps. “Just slept, mostly.” 

“You really are lucky, hyung. Wish I could have laid around in my pajamas all day.”

Jaebeom feels lightheaded. He wishes, half-heartedly, that Jinyoung would stop calling him hyung in that teasing, happy tone, wishes he wouldn’t talk about days off in sleep clothes, because he can almost feel Jinyoung there with him when he does, laying there next to him in boxers that show his thighs and a big t-shirt he stole off of Jaebeom’s floor. He can almost imagine what he would do, how he would react seeing Jaebeom shamefaced and touching himself. 

His imagination tells him different than what the reality would surely be. His imagination tells him Jinyoung would smirk, Jinyoung would touch him in a lazy tease, Jinyoung would use his pretty, perfect mouth to — “Hyung? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I — uh. My back just hurts, so it’s making it hard to focus.” It only hurts a little, but Jaebeom figures the fib won’t do any harm.

Jinyoung sighs, full of genuine upset. “I’m sorry, hyung. I should let you go rest.” He’s the type of person who hates being unable to help, so Jaebeom can’t imagine he’s pleased with their current situation and feels a little bad for playing up his pain. “Maybe when we get back I can give you a little shoulder massage.”

Jaebeom can’t help it. The thought of Jinyoung coming home to him, rubbing strong fingers against his skin, his warm body hovering behind Jaebeom’s as he works out the kinks in his muscles; it’s all too much, and his hips move without consulting his dizzy brain, fucking up into the loose circle of his fist. It feels incredible. He tightens his hand, strokes again, breath catching in his throat, and tries to cover it up with a cough.

He can hear Jinyoung laughing a little through the line, but it sounds different to any other time he’s heard his friend laugh, like and unlike him simultaneously. “Would you like that, hyung?” Jinyoung asks, voice low but tone innocent. “You want me to give you a back rub?”

“Only — ” Jaebeom knows his voice is going breathy now, stuttering. “Only if you want to.”

“I want to,” Jinyoung murmurs, assuring. “I want to come home and touch you, hyung.” He lets the words reverberate, Jaebeom feeling them rattle around in his head, clanging against the inside. “I want to touch you like you’re touching yourself.”

Jaebeom gapes, then gasps when his hand understands faster than his mind that he’s been caught in the act and rubs his thumb into his slit, quick, before he gets the chance to panic. “Fuck.”

“Mmm. How long?” Jinyoung asks, and Jaebeom doesn’t know how to properly answer with alarm bells ringing in his ears and shocks of precome sliding down his cock. He’s having trouble processing any of it, but especially the fact that Jinyoung hasn’t called him disgusting and hung up. “When did you start?”

“I — oh, god — ”

“Tell me,” Jinyoung says, a quietly demanding edge to his tone. “Hyung. How long did you jack off to the sound of my voice?”

“From the beginning.” Jaebeom is panting, desperate, wild, every care ripped out of his clenched hands and tossed into the wind by Jinyoung’s self-assured prying. “From when you called me out for not listening to you.”

“Oh, wow. I never would have thought you had it in you.” It’s a tease, warm and full of mirth like all of Jinyoung’s other teases at Jaebeom, and it soothes his initial dread, makes the blood rushing under his skin feel less like a flight of fear and more like excitement. 

“You’re filthy, aren’t you?”

Jaebeom’s stomach drops. His fingers close tight around the head of his cock, hard enough to punish. He thought he was okay, he thought it would be fine, he thought Jinyoung was —

Jinyoung makes an airy sound on the other end of the line. “I can’t believe hyung was being so dirty because of me.” It’s a strain on his ears, but when he focuses, he can hear Jinyoung rustling, the rip of a zipper opening. His heart thuds a deep bass beat in his chest when whatever part of his brain that isn’t tingling from the work of his hand puts two and two together to figure out what it means.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says, but he’s not just saying it, he’s _whining_ , he’s whining _‘hyung’_ because he must be in a similar position to Jaebeom now, laying on his back, pants open and cock leaking in his lovely hand. He can hear a shuddered exhale echo in the quiet of Jinyoung’s hotel room. “What did you think about?”

Jaebeom chooses that moment to blush. “Uh.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now.” His friend chuckles, weakly; Jaebeom wonders if Jinyoung touching himself makes his cheeks get that same cherry glow he always gets from laughing too hard.

“You,” Jaebeom breathes, voice sounding rough to his own ears. “I thought of you.” He knows Jinyoung well enough to preempt the dragging, sultry question to follow: _what_ about _me?_ “I thought about you laying down with me, touching me. I thought about putting my hands on you.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung says, surprised. Jaebeom hopes that the wet click of his throat over the line is a good thing. He’s pretty sure the quiet, slick sound in the background is Jinyoung touching himself thinking of the same. “You — ”

Jaebeom’s cock is practically weeping when he interrupts Jinyoung, hungry, starving now. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s not...sexy. It’s that ratty old crewneck I always bring.” To the contrary, it makes Jaebeom want to see him even more; it makes him acutely aware that everything he imagined might be closer to the truth than he expected. He could see Jinyoung in his mind’s eye earlier, but now all he wants is to get his hands on the real thing, to be greedy and steal his warmth and kiss the apples of his cheeks, to fuck into him slow, to stroke his cock and see him unravel and unfurl beneath him, throat long, eyes round and shining, mouth agape.

That’s worth mentioning. “I thought about your mouth.”

“My mouth?” Jinyoung breathes noisily. “Why?”

Jaebeom's cock is heavy in his hand just thinking about the sweet, rosy plushness. “It’s so gorgeous. Your lips….”

“What about them? Jaebeom, tell me,” Jinyoung says, a new, desperate edge to his voice. The slippery sound of Jinyoung running a hand over his cock is in the foreground, now, deafening to Jaebeom, kicking the deep simmer in his belly into something hotter. He sounds so wet. How did he get so wet? Did Jaebeom get him like that? “Talk to me about my mouth. Did you think about kissing me?”

“God, always.” Jaebeom strokes himself tight and fast at the pure, unadulterated _want_ in Jinyoung’s voice when he asks. “Kissing you, making out with you, putting my fingers in it, fucking it, anything you want.”

Jinyoung moans loud, like it was dragged out of him by force. “Jaebeom,” he whines, vocal cords straining in his throat. It sounds so fucking good Jaebeom clenches his stomach and his fist to stop from coming. “Fuck, please hyung, I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jaebeom groans into the empty dorm. He thinks of shiny, abused red lips and Jinyoung’s puppy eyes staring up at him from the floor, watery from going too far down on his dick. “When you get back, I’ll do it,” he promises, chest tight, heart fluttering, anxious and excited and wishing, “whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

“When I get back,” Jinyoung says, every word ringing with the certainty of a swear, “I’m gonna lock us in my room and make you do everything I can think of.”

Jaebeom feels his will fraying like an ancient knot, like he’s been holding off on coming for eons and centuries somehow despite the two of them sawing at it. He’s hanging on by a thread. “Jinyoungie, I…” he gasps, faint with arousal. “Please, baby, I’m gonna —”

“Hyung,” Jinyoung whimpers, the squelch of his own hand against his own cock drilling down the line and into Jaebeom’s ear, down his spine and into his thighs. “Hyung, come for me.”

So he does, tension across his body twisting until it snaps like a rubber band. He makes a complete mess, all inside his joggers, heaving in thick, sex-scented air and cursing as he watches himself come, thinking of Jinyoung right beside him, thinking of how he’ll want to watch the twitch of his cock when it spurts, thinking he might say something filthy to go along with it, thinking how he may dip his fingers into a droplet and twist his tongue around the tips to suck it clean. His dick twitches at the thought, feeble, as Jaebeom catches his breath.

He twists his fist a couple more times on his dick, entire body buzzing. Jinyoung sounds like he’s getting close, struggling for air while Jaebeom’s own body goes boneless. “Baby,” Jaebeom murmurs. “You want to come?”

Jinyoung’s voice gets caught in his throat. “Bummie, _ah_ , talk to me. Make me come. Please.”

“I can’t wait to fuck your pretty mouth, Jinyoungie, god. I'm gonna get hard again just thinking about it. Want to see you take it down like a good boy.” Jaebeom ponders for a second, looking at his sticky fingers. “I want to see you get over-eager and choke yourself on it.”

“Oh, hyung. I’ve thought about that so much. I want to get my mouth on you so fucking bad. I want to choke on it. I want to get all messy. I want you to come on my f— I —” 

Jaebeom listens, silent as the grave, as Jinyoung shakes apart a thousand kilometers away. He takes mental notes. He finally takes his sweaty, disgusting hand out of his pants as Jinyoung sighs through pretty, pretty lips, as his moan hitches up and down in pitch. He hopes he gets messy, that when they do this together he comes all over himself and Jaebeom can help clean him up with his mouth.

Jinyoung still sounds dazed when he finally talks again. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Jaebeom hums. “Wow.”

“Jaebeom….” The hesitance in Jinyoung’s voice seizes something in his chest, squeezes hard. “That was...fucking unbelievable.” 

He can hear the smile in his friend’s voice. “Yeah?” is all Jaebeom can manage to make his mouth say, it seems. The fist around his heart loosens. 

“Yeah.” Jaebeom doesn’t have to wonder anymore what his friend feels. He can hear it, thrumming down the line, in the smile he knows is painted across Jinyoung’s mouth.

Jinyoung mentions something about the both of them cleaning up and going to bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung.” His words are warm, knowing.

“See you tomorrow.”

Jaebeom is waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> lil reminder that if ur on kpop twt come visit me!!! [@sunnyseunie](https://twitter.com/sunnyseunie)


End file.
